Custos: Enemies Domestic

by Jake Aaron

  Beau recovered from his smile. “So, Tony, are you guys in the Senate going to work out saving the world from an asteroid strike, too?” He referred to the also-recent hearings on the potential for the earth’s being struck by something from outer space. The Senate was considering having NASA set up a comprehensive system to better monitor asteroids and comets. “How do you all set your agenda?… Go to horror movies?… I suppose setting up worldwide shark radar and sonar will be next, for those of you who’ve seen Sharknado… Nothing like going after the boogie man. Lots of public hysteria, sound bites, and headlines. You can’t beat it! When will you guys go after the real problems? No accountability! Kinda like a vacation at work!”

  Jesus showed his judicial temperament, “And when the Senate and House fail to get serious about real problems, I worry that long-term, the rut-in-the-road rule may hold. We’ve strayed so far in the last few years in overspending that the ruts in the muddy road are so much to the far sides of where we should be, that we’ll retrace them like courts following bad precedents.

  Eventually, centrifugal force will widen the ruts even more, and so on. A metaphor for our legal system running amok, too. That’s full circle back to Cadet Sam Vincent’s theory of entropy.” “Damn, Judge, you do listen!” FBI Director Vincent exclaimed. His face displayed pure awe. “That was over four months ago when I mentioned that.”

  “Sam, don’t tell my critics. Let’s keep that secret among this group… It is also true that I seldom listen to stupid arguments, though, my ears hear them. In my defense, I do see their advocates’ lips move… I propose a toast: scotch to a more scotch Congress.”

  All raised their glasses and drank, with Senator Tony reluctantly lagging the formation.

  Chapter 58

  January 18

  Georgetown

  The presence of a decked out maitre d’ signaled fine Friday evening dining. He seemed to know “Monsieur Bridger” by sight. He warmly greeted them though he had seen Zach only once before. Ceremoniously, he led Barb and Zach to “our best table… Bon appetit!”

  They were a smart-looking couple. Barb looked elegant in a new solid black J Crew wool dress, with a breath-taking v-neck. She wore matching black Michael Kors 4-inch high heels. Zach surprised her with a white orchid corsage. Zach had rented a black tuxedo with white microfiber point-collar shirt and gray vest. His shoes were conservative black round-toed. “Can you imagine me wearing the new shoe option: Converse black canvas? Really, tennis shoes!” Zach was energized. His gesticulation showed his one-half Italian heritage.

  “Zach, we could always go out for tennis afterward. I have a wicked backhand,” Barb volleyed.

  “No word plays on forehand and foreplay or tennis court and courting. I’m on good behavior.”

  “Indeed, clothes make the man. I like you in a tux, Zach.”

  “Well, my Carhartt overalls were at the dry cleaners…,” Zach jested self-effacingly. I did consider wearing my black snakeskin cowboy boots. The platinum earrings, not so much.”

  “Don’t start!” Barb smiled.

  “I am watching my tongue, Miss Symanski… You look quite, er, presentable tonight yourself. And I am renowned for my understatement… And speaking of statements while we are alone, remember we had nothing on a Mag Bomber-Trench Coat connection. I had to turn any future developments in that investigation over to the CIA since Mag Bomber is off limits. In a couple days, I’ll discreetly ask my CIA contact whether we can stop looking for Trench Coat. One can only hope.”

  _______________

  “The lady will have a glass of Gloria Ferrer Blanc de Blancs 2006. I’ll have a glass of Kings Ridge Pinot Noir 2009. Thanks, Jean.

  “Barb, I like the Oregon pinots. Glad you know what you want in the whites. I usually don’t drink those. Both should be safe. Both are rated in the 90s. I guess that number means something,” Zach smiled.

  “I look at those ratings, then drink what I like,” Barb replied. “I toured the Sonoma wineries with my folks back when Dad was based at Travis AFB. Wonderful place. Just has to bear great fruit, pun intended. The Blanc de Blancs looks like a good complement to the mahimahi I think I’d like. Brown rice. Asparagus. How about you?”

  “I don’t know whether the red will compliment (sic) my filet mignon… I will listen,” Zach winked.

  Jean, the sommelier, returned with the wine bottles. He offered Zach the pulled corks. “Smells good to me. Barb, you know this stuff better than I. Good to go on the corks?… You know my dad used to reject the first cork out of hand as a sign of his sophistication and authority… and he knew less about wine than I do.”

  Barb laughed at the conjured up picture. “I think these wines will be fine!”

  As the sommelier sharply departed, Barb needled Zach, “You must have been awfully certain I would come with you tonight with all these fine dining arrangements and the fitting rented tux and the corsage. You just asked me today!”

  “I had this lined up for a long time… with Angela. She couldn’t come, but you’re a good back-up plan.” Zach winked with a big grin.

  Barb shifted her position as she recrossed her legs under the table as a pretext for the “unintentional” swift kick she gave Zach to the shin of his left leg. “Oh, excuse me! I’m so sorry! My leg was falling asleep.”

  “And I apologize for my often inappropriate sense of humor. It is especially out of place with someone who always comes in first, not to mention someone gracious enough to come on short notice. You were and are my first choice. Please forgive me!”

  “Thank you for making me your first choice. I am glad to be here with you — most of the time,” she said with great aplomb.

  “Barb, you should know I had worked out all the details of tonight many days ago, including trying on several tuxedos so I knew sizes and styles. After you said ‘yes,’ it was only a matter of a few calls. I did not take you for granted. I hope you can laugh off my stupid joke and enjoy this evening.” Zach raised his wineglass, “To an extraordinary lady and agent!”

  Barb slowly returned a half-smile. She was a class act.

  _______________

  The pianist played “Stardust” in the background of the fine restaurant. Barb’s manners were natural, nothing studied about them. She observed, “The onion soup and salad were wonderful. You have great taste… I haven’t had this fusion style of cooking since I was in Honolulu as a kid.”

  “Great. How’s the fish?”

  “It is fantastic. Bite?”

  “As long as you don’t break my skin!” Bad joke, he thought. I’m trying too hard.

  “As long as we have that straight. Really, the mahimahi is incomparable.”

  “You are incomparable,” Zach said softly.

  “I’m sorry, I missed that.” There was nothing wrong with Barb’s hearing.

  “I said, “You are in a good mood.”

  “I’m usually in a good mood, Zach. You know that. Did the Pinot measure up?”

  “The nose was rich in plum and cherry, with a hint of hazelnuts. Taste walks a tightrope between plum and blackberry. Finishes strong with a complexity of fruity and nutty notes.

  Overall, a rounded presentation,” he spouted with mock condescension and a half smile.

  “Did you read that off the bottle?”

  “No, but it’s the only wine snob description I know. Give me your wine snob description of the Blanc de Blancs?”

  “It is too good for that. Probably the best champagne I’ve ever experienced, thanks. It makes growing up middle class worthwhile. You can really appreciate the finer things of life.”

  “To a great life! Zach toasted.

  “I will drink to that!”

  Both had a warm glow, thanks to the wine and the company.

  Barb liked the progress of the evening and decided to keep it going. She lightly brushed Zach’s left shin with her right instep as she recrossed her legs.

  Zach thought, I can take a hint, but wait; if I act on this, she could legitima
tely call the touching just an accident. If I don’t, I’m a fool. It wasn’t like Zach to second-guess himself. His uncharacteristic indecisiveness was unique to being with her. Damn it, this woman was different. He decided to briefly touch her hand when she accepted a taste of his pinot. She seemed genuinely pleased but not surprised when that happened. Zach wondered, What is this with all the second guessing —high school? She was the most challenging woman he had ever met.

  Beautiful, yes, but crafty and articulate.

  “Your Blanc de Blancs is terrific, too,” Zach smiled at the return offer. This time he had leaned forward gripping her hand while he took a sip. Things were going well.

  Barb felt wonderful about the evening. She had orchestrated everything perfectly.

  “Barb, I want you to know I have really enjoyed working with you.”

  “Yeah, too bad it’s over…”, Barb sighed.

  “Not really, fraternizing while we worked together… well, you know, would have been frowned upon in. Now I can ask you out.”

  “Well, I’m flattered,” Barb said. To keep him off-balance, she quizzed, “And I guess I can ask you out?”

  What did her smile mean? Zach hesitated, “I guess that’s the case… and I would be flattered.” Very difficult to stay ahead of this lady.

  “Dessert? I have it on good authority that the tiramisu is ‘to die for.’”

  “You have to bring up that ‘die for’ phrase to a Secret Service agent, don’t you?”

  Zach held up two open palms to say stop. “We’re doing it… again. I admit to starting many smart-aleck exchanges in the past… I also apologize for… You know, I’ve really enjoyed our banter. Made me really appreciate you more. You definitely give as good as you get.”

  Barb smiled knowingly. “Let’s share a tiramisu!”

  _______________

  The Ford 350 pulled up in front of Barb’s condominium. “We’ve ridden the Custos bull for all he’s worth,” he began. “We stayed on! In Montana, that’s a victory. You were there every step of the way — thinking, leading, catching dropped balls — to mix metaphors, as you say. It’s going to be hard to keep riding without you. Everyone will miss you, especially me. Thank you!”

  “I will miss working with you, too. You Marines aren’t too bad after all. Thanks for a lovely night, Zach. I really enjoyed it. Want to come in for some coffee?”

  Zach could not resist the opening. “You know, Barb, I can’t drink coffee this late — keeps me up,” he taunted.

  She sighed. “Zach… it was nice,” she struggled to not be riled. She knew Zach was smarter than he was acting. Barb snappily released her seat belt reflecting simmering irritation and opened the right truck door. She hesitated to get out too quickly in 4-inch heels, especially in the dark.

  “Hold it!” Zach immediately opened his door, hopped down, and circled to the front. He finished opening her door. “Wait, let me help you down from this high cab. A little dangerous in heels.”

  Zach offered his left hand. As she hesitantly moved to safely get down from the pickup, Zach leaned in and swept her up and gently eased her down on her feet. Close, he leaned in to embrace her and kissed her full on the lips. When the long mutual kiss ended, he whispered in her ear, “Maybe some decaf!” They both beamed and laughed at their mutual joke.

  Barb contentedly smiled in the triumph of orchestrating a long successful campaign. Zach felt like “king of the world.”

  Prologue

  District of Columbia

  September 5 (9 days before Congressman Zimmer dies)

  The distinguished senior official in a navy blue Brooks Brothers suit took his lunch break to relax on a park bench. He overlooked the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool in Washington, DC. Relaxing to escape the pressures of running his nearly 24,000-person organization, he centered himself. He craved this “alone time” to let his subconscious mull over his afternoon workload. Inevitably, the respite revealed something critical he had forgotten about or gave him new insight into complex problems. Fortunately, the more time he devoted to this pursuit, the more brilliant others considered him. The break was more than a guilty pleasure, he told himself.

  Problems like cartel activity, economic stimulus fraud, international contract corruption, and election crimes raced through his mind. He sat erect and closed his eyes behind polarized sunglasses. Slowly, very slowly, he sought to turn off his conscious mind. After five minutes, relaxation overtook his mind and body. His muscles relaxed as if the individual strands of his DNA loosened in their tight helices. His racing mind slowed with his breathing. Fifteen minutes later he emerged from his nirvana. He was at ease and refreshed. He had stopped sparring with his problems. He had an awareness of how he could tackle every challenge. He had newfound energy for all his tasks.

  A slight breeze made the lowland heat and humidity almost bearable. As he was about to return to work, a lean athletic man in a gray workout suit and Brooks running shoes joined him on the park bench. The man’s features were obscured by the shade from a faded red Washington Nationals baseball hat and black wraparound Ray-Ban sunglasses. The interloper was a generation younger than the senior man.

  The senior man ran his left hand through his thinning sandy hair. This signal waved off the pending intervention of a nearby federal agent. The agent and his partner were part of an ever present security detail on key senior government officials. The closer agent on protective detail purposefully began to slow his breathing and take deeper breaths. He had learned this heightened his sensibilities and kept him extra alert for any untoward action by someone near his protected official. That kevlar vests protected his official and the agents provided no comfort. This was the age of armor-piercing rounds and accurately-aimed head shots.

  Distrust of everything external was unhealthy, but it came with the territory. The senior man trusted his own instincts and needed to exercise a dash of optimism now and then. The protective detail did not have that luxury. At the moment, each agent was slightly distracted by an increasing number of birds swarming at the contents of a bag of popcorn spilled nearby. The approaching younger man had dropped the bag earlier behind his back without the agents’ observance.

  The younger man now sitting on the park bench pretended to make a cell phone call as he spoke in low tones to his senior, “Let’s both keep looking out over the Pool while we visit. I apologize for the interruption of your reverie here — my favorite place to relax, too. Please excuse my brusqueness. I’ll introduce myself later.” His delivery was matter-of-fact and rapid. “I know you’re a true patriot, a trusted public servant. I love this country, too, and I am very concerned about the future of the United States. Airborne Ranger when I was 16. Career CIA field agent. I am being treated at Walter Reed. Terminal. But I still get around pretty well. Name’s Stanley Bricker. S-T-A-N-L-E-Y B-R-I-C-K-E-R — easy to spell. Initials Sierra Bravo — the opposite of B-S. The shortened middle finger on my right hand is a pretty good identifier. Hezbollah has the rest of it. They didn’t like my salute.

  “You don’t need to say anything,” the younger man continued. “You don’t know who I am. You don’t know if I’m wearing a wire. I understand any caution you must feel. I just want you to consider how I can help the country before I check out. I love possibilities, and I think you do as well. I want to give you time to consider all facets of this opportunity. I trust you. My life and future are in your hands. I’ll plan on a brief exchange of hypotheticals next time. I’ll find you around the Pool on a different bench, on another day.”

  The senior man glanced only once toward the younger one next to him on the bench. He mentally photographed the younger man’s shortened middle finger on the right hand, which rested on the latter’s thigh. Then the senior man glanced symmetrically to the other side, completing what the protective detail would construe as a natural, unconscious behavior.

  And then the younger man crisply and conspicuously turned off his new Samsung cell with his left thumb and casually left. The seni
or man showed no reaction and appeared serene. The watchful security detail relaxed — a little.

  _______________

  Six days later the senior man was sitting on a different park bench during a late lunch break. He watched the wind create small silver waves that swept across the glimmering water of Reflecting Pool. The effect was mesmerizing — repetitive, everlasting, eternal.

  A younger man approached. His years of field service made acute awareness of his surroundings instinctive. He knew immediately the men in the security detail were not the same as last time. Thanks to a rotating schedule, he imperceptibly grinned. His thumb pushed the alarm button on the Camry key fob in his right trouser pocket. The younger man sat down next to the senior official, this time taking pictures with a Lumix digital camera. Stanley had a mustache and wore a brown booney hat, subdued pastel Eddie Bauer short-sleeved shirt, khaki chinos, Birkenstocks, and wraparound Oakley sunglasses. He looked like a typical tourist.

  As before, the senior man ran his left hand through his hair to indicate to the security detail that there was no problem. His protective agents remained at bay, but not at ease. Their visual scans were involuntarily compromised by auditory overload as their brains reacted to a nearby car’s ear-piercing alarm.

  “Spy guy here. Let’s again keep our focus on the water while we talk… What are your thoughts on how I can be of use — hypothetically?”

  Without looking at the younger man, the senior man replied, “You check out. I have to say, ‘Thank you for your service.’ I’m sure I’d be even more impressed if I knew your complete history.”

  “I’m curious, how did you do a background on me?”

  “I called in a couple of favors. I got trusted IT help to cover my tracks — compartmentalized. Did wide screens of data that pulled up beaucoup names that matched parts of your history. Avoided a nexus that specifically pulled your name up, only large groups. Borrowed many different accounts to do the searches.”